


Tears Of An Eagle

by JosivChrisma



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Cults, F/F, F/M, Food, Friendship, Gen, Horror, Hurt/Comfort, Love, These tags will come into play as the story progresses, Undead
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 03:14:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26190082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JosivChrisma/pseuds/JosivChrisma
Summary: Ever since Jake was torn from Sadie’s life, she has walked the path of darkness and death. Throughout her time with the Van Der Linde gang, she discovers a blinding light within Tilly Jackson. New beginnings await them on the horizon, but Sadie's unrelinquishing love for Jake prevents her from moving on.How will she confront her fears and the horrors of her past as she seeks clarity and closure? Is she willing to fight for her future with Tilly?
Relationships: Abigail Roberts Marston/John Marston, Sadie Adler & Abigail Roberts Marston, Sadie Adler & Madam Nazar, Sadie Adler/Tilly Jackson
Comments: 5
Kudos: 6





	1. I’m Done Being Broken

**Author's Note:**

  * For [owlpockets](https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlpockets/gifts).



> Dearest owlpockets, 
> 
> I am well and truly late to the Multifandom Horror Exchange, but I haven’t forgotten the gift that was promised to you. Once I received your assignment I instantly picked up where I left off, two years later, on my RDR2 gameplay, Chapter 6. Funnily enough, just in time for Sadie Adler’s final showdown with the O’Driscolls. That mission alone inspired me to write this story and I ended up completing the entire game. Now I’m on my second playthrough. Really though, I have you to thank for this. I may have never rediscovered my love and greater appreciation for this masterpiece, RDR2, and its rich characters. 
> 
> I aim to release the story in chapters for your reading pleasure. I hope you enjoy the ride.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After painting Van Horn red with Pinkerton blood, Sadie and Abigail part ways with Arthur and set off for Copperhead Landing. All they need is honesty and a shoulder to lean on, and of course, finding a way to grin and bear their sorrows.

All the fallen in their wake. Distorted faces, inanimate in horror. Many have no faces at all, no match for the dead-eyed. Bodies heaped in mounds of tangled limbs, frosted with grit. Plumes of dust rose from quaking hooves tearing through the beaten track as crimson pools lay tethered to men who succumbed to the demise of a bullet. They, like all the rest, become pleasant memories to a hell-bent widow with an unquenchable thirst for blood and revenge.

Sadie Adler tilts the brim of her weathered hat, hiding the beads of sorrow welling up in her eyes. It won't do Arthur any good, seeing her weep over his inevitable fate. Yet he braves it all with a strained, gaunt smile, prepared to face the crooked ones and the true enemy burrowed deep within his lungs. She chirks, braces Bob's reins and bids a solemn farewell to another honourable soul. It hits too close to home, where ever that was now. Like Jake, all good men die while the forsaken carry on living.

Abigail, whose arms weave around Sadie's waist, cusses through angry tears. Despite the evening sun, the phantom weight of Sadie's revolver remains cold and heavy in her empty hand. She found satisfaction in pulling the trigger until the gun ran dry, and hopes her tears follow suit. 

Sadie stirs in the saddle when Abigail's head finds comfort against her back. 'You hangin' in there, Abby? Pulled a real quick one on that asshole, Milton. Gunnin' on horseback like a seasoned gunslinger too. Damn near impressed me, woman.' 

'That's a fine compliment, comin' from you. But, I ain't no damsel in distress. I done got myself kidnapped as an excuse for you and Arthur to have one final shootout together.' Abigail's muffled voice follows.

Even after what they've endured, Sadie appreciates the diversion and laughs huskily, wiping the stubborn tears that fall. 'That's mighty generous, and what a shootout it turned out to be. Paintin' Van Horn red. You and I tied up barkin' at a knot with a gun aimed at our heads, cuspin' on perversion and all,' Sadie remarks nonchalantly. Her bicep tingles when Abigail slaps a lazy hand against it and gasps. 

'Why, Mrs Sadie Adler! Whose angle are you speakin' from, Milton's, Arthur's or your own? I thought I was once the only workin' girl here.'

Sadie wipes the smirk from her face, though it lingers through an amused snort. 'I ain't speakin' from experience, that's for sure,' she replies, still it earns her a light jab to the ribs.

'The contents of your mouth has me at sea, at times sharp as a knife, sweet as sugar cane, and as of late, filthy as a rancher's boot.' Abigail tightens her embrace around Sadie, who leans into her, grateful for the tacit support between them. 'You damsels are lucky I finessed my way outta those bonds to save y'all.

'Come on now, no need to rub salt in our wounds. Just be grateful I letcha borrow my gun to finish the job,' Sadie replies with a placid grin. 'Besides, this is harmless banter between us respectable lady friends. I ain't no home wrecker, even after your loss.'

'The thought never crossed my mind. You're as fiercely loyal as they come. You ain't the type to steal someone's lover. If things were different, there'd be no reason for thievery amongst the damned. I'd say, people would find ways to fall into your lap.'

Sadie scoffs in disbelief. 'Or they'll fuckin' die tryin'.'

'Just confessin' the truth. Your Jake was lucky to have a woman like you. The ride or die type. I wish my John would...' Abigail bites the tip of her fiery tongue, lost in silent thoughts. On the corner of her eye, a carton of premium cigarettes and a matchbox dangles above Sadie's shoulder.

'Wanna smoke about it?' Sadie asks. 'I'd offer up my flask o' whiskey, but I can't have you yahooin' all the way to Copperhead Landing, can't afford to have ya topplin' off Bob either.'

'You sure are bittersweet, Sadie.' Abigail takes the bait, claims her confidant's lousy habit, lights one up and lets the harsh smoke caress her lungs. 

Sadie waits patiently for the digression, but the way her companion expires prompts a need for silence. Abigail's confident fingers curve at her waist once more and a thumb hooks at her leather belt while she returns the offerings. Bob lets out a whinny, eager to quicken the pace, but his master keeps him cantering. 

'Hey now, each to their own. John had his faults, but he loved you and Jack. Life is kind enough to hand you a second chance on a silver platter. You'd do well to take it greedily, Abby. Start anew, make a life for yourselves.' Sadie muses, anchored by the thought of healing her losses by granting hope within another. 

'I've always admired that about you, sayin' it how it is.' Abigail clicks her tongue. 'Hell, you even convinced me to give John another chance for the umpteenth time even though he's gotten himself killed. I swear, even in death he still manages to frustrate me. Enough of the condolences,' she takes another laboured drag and breathes, 'what path beckons you now?'

'Well, I've somewhat, had my fill of bountiful vengeance and lived to tell the story. My conscious tells me I could do with a bout of honest work, this ticker beats indifferently,' Sadie responds, thumping an open palm to her chest, pressed no further by her companion's curiosity. 'All I know is that I'm in no hurry to seek redemption for the path I've chosen to follow over the past year.'

'Ain't nothin' wrong with that. You're a free woman livin' as she pleases in a changin' world. Unless you got a hold on some belvidere or pretty lady?' Abigail asks slyly. 'Or just a pretty lady.' 

Sadie rolls her eyes halfway to heaven and swallows her pride. If this were anyone else running their mouth, she would do the most decent thing and sock them in the throat. But this was Abigail, a dear friend, harmlessly prying, chipping away at the stone wall to her emotions. Instead, she reaches for the corn cob crowning from the saddlebag and jokingly dangles it above her shoulder—something else for that busy mouth it seemed. Abigail guffaws and shoves it away while Bob appreciates the unexpected treat.

'There's only one man for me, and he's in the ground. Losin' him was cumbersome, takes time and a whole lot o' tears, enough to row across in a darn canoe.' Sadie rubs the dull shine of the gold band that has never left her finger. She grits her teeth when a familiar ache tugs at her chest. 'I just...wouldn't know how to start again.'

Abigail softens her tone, bumping in time with the horse's gait. 'Don't get me wrong, your words are clear as day. I don't mean to rattle your snakes no further, and I've always respected your loss. But you already started with another even if you're sittin' there in denial.' 

'Ms Tilly Jackson? We're friends, nothin' else.' Sadie replies, reluctant to reveal what's been feeding the newfound flame burning somewhere once closed off to the world. 

'Oh—don't give me that, you're both sweet on one another. Tilly could be the one to mend your heart,' Abigail gently retorts. 'Once you're willing to let her, that is.'

'Since we're spillin' beans like there's no tomorrow. Maybe I'm done being broken.' Sadie hears the bumpy utter of agreeance from a mouth fit for a corn cob. 

'You'll know when you're truly ready, darlin'. I’ll give it to you straight, like always. Losin' someone you love is just as hard as movin' on with someone else.'

Thankful for the honesty, Sadie warms Abigail's fingers briefly with her own. Knowing the prying has ceased, for now, she shifts her weight forward in the saddle and Bob neighs in satisfaction, responding with a smooth gallop.

They don't speak of their past grievances again. Now and then their minds will stray, caught in the fray of old times as they shooed away defiant tears. At least they had one another to lean on, following the road to Copperhead Landing, eager to reunite with Jack and Tilly. 


	2. A Sight For Aching Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sadie and Abigail reunite with Tilly and Jack. After a trying day, they all deserve a scrumptious meal. Meanwhile, Jack is adamant that someone else will be joining them soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy reading :)

They arrive in higher spirits, keeping to the peninsula until the skeleton of a neglected cabin ruins the sunset reflecting on the Lannahechee River.

Sadie makes out two figures in the distance, one stoking a small campfire and another on a jetty standing with a fishing rod. She's been here before with Abigail, bickering about John when he got himself locked up in Sisika. Only this time around, she couldn't save him.

As soon as Bob slows to a halt, Jack lodges his bamboo rod between two creaky planks of wood and springs into his mother's arms. Tilly glows in her yellow dress, umber eyes briefly lingering on Sadie, whose face feels more sun-kissed than usual before Abigail embraces her in gratitude. 

Once Sadie dismounts, Bob nudges her towards the approaching woman and joins in with the mare grazing through a patch of long grass. 'Howdy, Tilly. Aren't you a sight for achin' eyes,' she greets, doffing her hat to comb nervous fingers through blonde, tousled tresses. Dishevelled and covered with the evidence of a day's worth of riding and gunning, her rugged appeal is apparent to everyone else but herself.

'Took you long enough,' Tilly replies, stepping closer with a pronounced sway in her hips. Bold enough to reach out and twirl the checkered, blue neckerchief resting on the gunslinger's chest with steady fingers. 'Glad to see the road was kind enough to bid you both a safe return. Not that I was worried. Them bastards had it comin' with you and Arthur shootin' up the place.'

'Fittin' to know you care. Yeah—I wouldn't inflate my hot air balloon just yet. Got ourselves into a slight altercation, but the thought of a comely face motivated me to put up one helluva fight.' Sadie's breath catches when Tilly yanks her in for a seamless hug. 

'They got their comeuppance, regardless. You're here, you're alive and breathin', that's all that matters,' Tilly murmurs into the shell of Sadie's ear. 'You and that sugary mouth.'

Sadie hardly blames the sun for the heat rising in her cheeks. It's painfully obvious who the culprit is. 'You can't blame a woman,' she replies, her lips dangerously close to Tilly's neck.

Close to stoking the flickering flames between them, Tilly makes way for Jack as he clamps his arms around one of Sadie's thighs in a gentle vice grip. 'Thanks a hundred times for rescuing my momma, Aunt Adler!' The boy chirps, nuzzling himself into the rough denim of her trousers, right next to a sleeping revolver. 'You is like our saviour.'

'Aww—hey there, bud.' Sadie kneels, her sight in line with his puppy dog eyes. 'I'll let you in on a lil' secret. Your momma was a real bravin' hero back in Van Horn, saved me and Uncle Arthur's hides. Ain't too shabby with a piece either.' Over his shoulder, Abigail accentuates a silent gesture, pressing an index finger to a pair of pursed lips. 'Showed them stinky Pinkertons, who's boss. She was magnificent!' Sadie exclaims, ruffling the hair on his head.

Jack gasps in awe, lifting his jovial eyes at his mother standing nearby, watching the heart-warming scene unfold. 'Wow, Momma, was you scared? Did you kill the baddies? Wha-what's a shabby piece and where's Uncle Arthur?' Abigail catches him when he comes running. 

'Oh, Jacky, Momma did what she had to do. Uncle Arthur...' Abigail pauses, searching for the words to soften the blow. 'He's gone to fight more crooked men. Then he's retirin' to paradise for good, hon'.' The three women share a solemn look of understanding between them, as Jack hangs his head and nods. 

'Hey, now,' Sadie coos, her hand stretching out towards him. He fills half of it with his own. 'Chin up, bud. Word is around camp, you been lookin' after Ms Tilly in the meantime, now that's mighty heroic to me,' she reassures him, as a smile blooms within his cherubic cheeks. 'She cares the world for you too, helpin' to keep you safe.' 

'Yes, ma'am, we been helping each other. I even caught fishes for supper,' Jack nods hurriedly. 'So, we is all heroes in our own ways?' He asks, raising his brows.

'You got it, bud, and don't you forget it.' 

Not shy of a minute, Sadie whips around to see Jack's fishing rod bobbing at the forefront of a cloud scattered sunset. Excitedly, the boy floors it to the jetty and reclaims his rod. Tilly hurries to his aid, bundles her skirt and kneels, steadying his stance with two hands at his hips, while he reels the straining line from the river.

'Steady now, Jack. Just like we practised. This one ain't got no chance from you now.' Tilly encourages him. 'Whatchu think you got there?'

'Feels like a bass, it be wigglin' mighty strong,' Jack replies. 'Make sure you holdin' on, Aunt Tilly, or we might end up in the water too!' He bends his knees, winding as he tilts the rod downwards and snaps it back. 'A little help please,' he mumbles, trying his best to wrangle the catch.

None of them can shake their amusement at the commotion. Jack, whose chuckles are being filtered by a bitten tongue, furrows his brow in concentration as Tilly takes charge and pretends it's just as strenuous of a task. 

Thrashing about, rippling the once stagnant waters, was a largemouth bass. Tilly heaves it on to the jetty as it slaps about furiously, manages the hook, and once the fish is free, Jack raises it into the air by its tail. 'You done already caught four decent fish. Who's this one for, the horses?' She asks while Abigail and Sadie give him high praise for the feat with a flurry of applause.

'For Poppa's belly when he comes back to us.' He stands there, face full of adamant cheer. Tilly's tongue loses direction and she’s thankful when Abigail softly intervenes.

'My son, I'm so proud of you. Your poppa would be too, I know it.' Abigail frowns. 'But you and I, we're gonna get through life together now, you hear?'

'Stop speaking like he's dead!' Jack protests. His glee slowly turns sombre, as his voice drops. 'If he is, th-then why can I still see his sore face and feels him in my chest, Momma?' 

Abigail catches the tears and rocks her son into calmness, whispering words of endearment, without care that his fresh kill is joining in on the moment. She's cried enough for now, but her son's words still resonate within a heavy heart. 

Sadie assists Tilly with supper, everyone settling on smoked fish to suit the little ingredients on hand, while Abigail and Jack unload the horse to set up camp for the night. 

Once Tilly had bled out, descaled and gutted the bass, she sat on the old veranda, laid two square planks of wood from the cabin's panels and readied the fish for filleting.

With the other four fish prepared earlier, all Sadie had to do was add some flair. Gathering her ingredients, she joined the other woman, who was swiftly handling her knife as she chopped the fish's head clean off its body, followed by its fins and tail.

'Ain't that some savvy knifin' ya got there,' Sadie compliments as she sprinkles salt and raw sugar on the row of fresh fillets. Once satisfied, she performs a dry rub. 'Remind me not to get on your bad side,' she jokes lightheartedly.

'I can hold my own. You'd do no such thing, you're too much of a good woman.' With precision Tilly glides her blade slowly along the underbelly and splits open the deep incision, meeting the woman's curious eyes, peering from behind dark, curled lashes. 'Learned it from my pa. We fished together a lot when he was alive. Taught me everythin' underneath the sun, 'cept being an outlaw.' 

There was something about Tilly and her bronzed complexion catching the evening sun, that struck Sadie differently. For the briefest of moments, she lets her eyes loiter. 'Sometimes, life does the choosin' for us,' she responds. 'Whether we run with it or not, ain't always our decision to make.' She opens the jar of wild honey and smears a light layer over each fillet with a spoon and spreads it evenly.

'Ain't that the truth. I been searchin' for green pastures since I was a kid. Lost hope many a time. The only thing that kept me from fallin' off the wagon was the people I've connected with,' Tilly says, as she runs the sharp knife against a translucent ribcage until the fish is spread open like a butterfly, then she begins the delicate process of deboning.

Satisfied with her seasoning, Sadie moves on to coat the next set of fillets. 'People make life worth livin'. Being an outlaw, it sure ain't for the faint-hearted. But the ones still standin', we're strong and resilient like trees. Can't be felled easily.'

'Then there are trees that are wrongfully felled before their time.'

Outlaw or not, Sadie knows many who’ve fallen. She nods in silent remembrance and moves to the campfire, laying each fillet on wired mesh inside a metal tray. Underneath, chopped chunks of alder tree burn, releasing smoke, perfect for enhancing the flavour. Through her wheaten fringe she finds Tilly’s kind eyes once more. 'All things considered, Tilly. You turned out to be a blossomin', young woman.'

Darkness soon falls around them, apart from the odd, stridulating cricket, the only thing anyone hears are the hums of approval around the campfire as they pick and peel at the smoky, sweetened slabs of fish with glistening fingers. 

Abigail manages to talk some sense into Jack, although his persistence of John's return remains unshakeable. So she prepares a plate and leaves it by the fire to keep him happy before he nods off to sleep.

Sadie leans her back against the log, withdraws her pack of premiums, sparks a match and takes a heavy drag, blowing a cloud of grey smoke into the fresh air. Beside her, a dormant carbine rifle points to the sky, while Tilly leans against her shoulder humming through the last lines of an old lullaby.

'Look at you two, coupled like turtle doves. I guess Jack was right after all. He knew before any of us caught wind of the affections, including yourselves.' Abigail says, leaning over to wipe the fringe from Jack's forehead. 

'Whatchu talkin' 'bout? We're just snugglin' for the sake of generatin' heat,' Tilly chides, while Sadie takes the obvious poke in comfortable silence and pretends to cough. 

'Nice try and the sky is always blue, huh?' Abigail jokes. 'Believe it or not, the first night we made camp up in Horseshoe Overlook was the day Jack said, 'the sad lady and Ms Tilly will be over-friendly one day', in his own words.'

'Well, ain't that some uncanny sheeyit,' Sadie inserts, sucking on the tailor-made burning closer to her lips, as she leans against the cushion of a plush, french braid. 'Damn, girl, you must've made it real obvious back then, hm?' 

‘Clearly.’ Tilly pinches at Sadie's jaw in response and hums against her chest. 'Ain't my fault a freshly widowed woman had me feelin’ hot under the collar.’

Sadie slaps an open hand to her thigh and squeals with raspy laughter. A long time ago, she would've jumped down anyone's throat for throwing crassness to the wind like that, giving her plenty of reasons to sharpen her hunting knife. But Tilly was someone she trusted enough to have her best interests at heart.

'Oh, get a tent with your filthy mouthed selves,' Abigail suggests, flapping her hand at them. 'This boy frightens me sometimes with his sixth sense. Says things beyond the comprehension of a child. We got real deep before, discussin' what he's been seein' in his mind's eye', he calls it. Said it shows him things when he least expects it. He even felt the speedy bullet hurtin' his side, and John fallin' off his horse left to bleed all over the ground.'

'Maybe it's a copin' mechanism, his way of dealin' with stress and grief,' Tilly suggests, while Abigail frowns worryingly. 'Or he could be a seer in the makin'.'

Sadie arches her eyebrows and twitches her head in agreeance to the former opinion, unsure of what to believe as she continues to smoke. 

With the other two women deep in discussion, over their murmurs, Sadie hears a familiar thundering sound in the distance through the blanket of darkness around them. 'Hush now, you two hear that?' Her body stiffens, and everything falls deadly silent. The only noise penetrating the night was the crackling of the campfire. 'Sit tight, someone's comin,' she warns them, reaching for her rifle. 'On your feet, both o' ya. Arm yourselves with the iron in my holster. Make hast.' Abigail and Tilly immediately oblige and move to shield the view of a sleeping Jack.

The sound of a horse closing the distance in full gallop is enough to rattle anyone, especially without the knowledge of who it's carrying. Pointing the rifle into the darkness, Sadie depletes the cigarette in one hit and stubs it with the heel of her boot. Suddenly the horse slows to a canter a few yards from her position. Her chestnut eyes slowly adjust as they travel the length of the barrel, pointed towards the figure. She urges the gun skywards, hooks the trigger with her finger, and sounds a warning shot that startles the horse, but not its rider. 'Declare yourself, or I'll shoot. Next time, right through your fuckin' skull! Her raspy voice erupts, every spoken word steaming with smoke, the spike of adrenaline clenching at her gut. 

Still, the dark shadow doesn't respond, instead, sways back and forth like reeds in the wind, a sadistic dance that unsettles Sadie's nerves as she steadies the rifle in place. Within the breadth of a second the horse halts, judging by its exertion of heavy breaths, it's close to exhaustion. The mysterious figure groans horridly before its silhouette crumbles into a mangled heap on the horse's back. Sadie loses all instincts to shoot a second time when the courageous animal dips its head and steps closer with caution. Another groan fills the darkness; this time, it comes from her mouth, as she realises the stranger is John Marston. 

Although the outlaw looks heavily spent, he comes to when Abigail swats his scar-torn cheeks and ends up glassy-eyed while mumbling sweet and sour nothings under her breath. She tends to his wound, the result of a bullet graze, fortunate enough to have dodged his valuable organs. She stitches him up in no time and returns with the plate of warm food, resting near the heat of the fire. 

Under the canvas, Sadie and Tilly fall asleep to the image of Abigail carefully serving John smoked fish between generous helpings of her lips. 


	3. Something In The Air

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack has a rare gift that everyone but Sadie acknowledges, until something unexpected shakes her beliefs. At camp, there is hearty stew and Guarma rum to be had before John, Abigail and Jack depart for new pastures.

Jack wakes early cradled in his father's arms, greeted by a peeking sun, his mother and the two women destined to be more than friends. He cries out in joy the moment he realises the pleasant surprise, who's fast asleep, snoring like the ruckus of a pigsty. 'See, Momma, I told ya Poppa would come back to us!' He blurts, trying his second-best to keep his voice hushed. 'It's like magic.'

'Yes, Jacky, it's like magic, appeared outta nowhere while you were countin' buffalo in your sleep,' Abigail replies, as she keeps a watchful eye on the percolator. Leaving out the part where Sadie, who barely misses a beat, almost shot John to a permanent death. 'Your bass tasted so good, it went and knocked Poppa out cold. Take care not to disturb his bandages, hon', he's got some recoverin' to do. Now, do your business, wash up, and I'll dish you out a bowl o' porridge once you get back.' 

Jack gently slithers out from under his father’s arms, rubs his eyes and skips to the other side of the cabin. 

'If John layin' there ain't solid proof of Jack's mind's eye at work, then I dunno what is.' Abigail turns to see the steam from a pair of enamelled mugs, rolling over her friend's faces as they sipped their coffee in unison. She pours herself a cup full and sits on an upturned stump by the fire.

Tilly sighs at the tang of her brew. 'I never doubted you, Abigail, it's peculiar. Jack's gotta rare gift. Some people grow out of it, some hold on to it for life. My ma was the same. Her visions would come every time she'd lay in a body of water. Somethin' 'bout it that heightened her intuition. Used to scare me some, talkin' without any sense. The strange thing was, she saw my pa's death before her own. Not long after I was taken, she passed, and all that nonsense she spoke of came true.' 

Sadie rubs the goosebumps prickling her arm; thankful Abigail prepared such a reliable batch of coffee for their chosen morning topic. 'I'm sorry to hear that,' she says with softness. 'You think maybe in the slightest, it's all purely coincidental?'

'Which is a polite way of sayin' you're still sceptical,' Tilly responds. 'Mysterious things exist in this world, and there ain't no explainin' it.' 

'I meant no offence,' Sadie replies, sensing Tilly's slight displeasure. 'What would you have me believe? Somethin' in the air feedin' the boy messages from beyond? That's a load of—'

'I ain't askin' you to believe anythin', Sadie. Just sayin', there's more to it than only believin' things you see. Now, I respect your opinions. It ain't a bad thing, havin' a mind shaped like a tunnel. You'll come around in your own time.'

In a huff, Sadie sculls the remainder of her coffee. 'You got that right. In the meantime, I'm off huntin' for a meal. Blow off some god-damn steam while I'm at it.' Better not to stoke the fire too much, or risk the burn that comes with it. So she leaves them wallowing in an awkward silence atop a giddy Bob.

'Sheesh—yup, you two takin' a real shine on one another for sure. Good luck tamin' that majestic creature,' Abigail says, scooping out a bowl of porridge.

'A bit hard, 'specially when she has a heart o' gold, and a silvered tongue dipped in honey,' Tilly admits, sipping furiously at her brew.

Abigail taps the air above her head with her hand. 'Preachin' to the choir, sweetheart.'

Everything dissipates once Jack's face comes bouncing around the corner towards the bowl of hearty porridge with a dollop of honey dissolving at its centre. Soon their worries become nothing but melted thoughts, disappearing into distant memories.

John wakes before midday as everyone focuses on light chores around camp. Tilly scrubs through a small load of dirty laundry on the water's edge. To his standards, he shares a tender reunion with Jack before Abigail firmly insists he caters to his sustenance, chop more firewood and keep the campfire lit, while she and their son tend to the horses. The only thorn in his side was his nagging injury. As he unscrews the glass bottle of healing tonic in his hands and takes a swig, Sadie returns from a bountiful hunt, bow and quiver at her back, with three limp rabbits, and a bundle of wild carrots dangling off Bob's side.

'Good t' have ya back, John,' Sadie greets him as her steed comes to a standstill and she dismounts. 'Always had a hunch the day I met Dutch. In the end, he was too damn idealistic for anyone's good. Afraid to face a changin’ world. In my state though, didn't have much choice but to roll with the punches. One thing I'm grateful for though, meetin' a bunch o' nurturin' misfits.'

'Too bad that way of life yielded nothin’ but more broken promises.' John rises to his feet from his bedroll, clutching at his side. 'Call it luck or a coward's hope, but I been dodgin' the reaper for too long now. Dutch lost his damn mind to greed many moons ago. We just ended up doin' his dirty work and he done wiped his hands clean on the loot. We became disposable assets, nothin' else. You speakin' wise though, Sadie, most of us had no choice. Only way to survive now, is to adapt.' He dishes himself a bowl of oats and lowers himself slowly onto the communal log. 

Sadie props a foot up beside him. 'Well, if ya can't beat ‘em, join 'em and pray to high heavens you survive another day in the clutches of a cruel world,' she says, wiping the sweat from her brow with a sleeve splattered in dried rabbit's blood. 'Can't say the same for our fallen comrades. We lost some good people back there.’

'We all walked this path, knowin' the risks that come with it. Speakin' of comrades, I ran into Arthur,' he says between mouthfuls of porridge. 'Them Pinkertons drove us up the mountains. He held them off while I escaped. Sure as hell fought to the bitter end, even on his last legs and lungs.'

'Sheeyit—don't I know it. I'm hopin' he stuck it to that rat, Micah. If not, I'mma bring him to justice one day.' Sadie clenches her fist as she rests an arm over her bent knee.

'Damn, straight. That day will come, 'til then, I'll try this settlin' down business with Abigail and Jack. Look for somethin' stable without havin' to look over my shoulder.' He scrapes his bowl clean, eager for seconds. 

'A fine decision, John. Your woman declarin' to the world 'bout clingin' to the last straw long enough,' Sadie says. Abigail scolds him lovingly from afar, and John blows a lazy kiss in her direction—reminding her of the times when she and Jake loved one another unconditionally.

Everyone works up an appetite for Sadie's hearty, signature stew and spend the afternoon gathered around a blazing campfire.

After their bellies are full and Jack's tucked into bed, Tilly brings out a stout bottle of leftover Guarma rum and shares the goods.

'You sure know the way to a woman's heart,' Tilly says, handing Sadie a quarter filled mug of liquor, just enough to sip and please the senses.

'It's rude to steal the words right outta my mouth like that.' Sadie's mouth furls, deepening the soft lines on her cheek.

'This your way of apologisin'? I could get used to gettin' you riled up again.' 

'I'm glad my actions speakin' louder than my words.' Sadie raises the mug to her lips, kidding no one since it's written all over her freckled face. 'You're a deservin' woman. Feedin' you up on stew is the least I can do.'

'You walk a dangerous line, talkin' all that taffy to me.' Tilly leans in, close enough to catch the sweetness on Sadie's breath. She traces a finger over the proud scar above Sadie's brow and watches her succumb to the gentle yet searing touch.

Entranced, Sadie bravely fixes her gaze on the pair of pillowy lips floating above hers. 'Hmm, nowadays, I laugh in the face of danger,' she says, inching closer, flicking knowing glances into deep, cacao eyes.

'Ooh, that depends. Are you willin' to pay the price for possessin' a sugary mouth?' Tilly taunts charmingly.   
  
If it wasn't for Abigail's outburst of laughter and distaste, most likely at John's wandering, unruly hand, the night might have ended differently. Sadie pockets the moment for another time and relishes in the present, gathered around the fire, talking nonsense until the liquor served its purpose.

The following day, John travels to the nearest stable marked on the frequented map and returns with one of Arthur's stored horses in tow. An andalusian with a dark bay coat, the perfect steed for a long journey, away from these treacherous parts of civilisation. Once they load up the little possessions they have, him, Abigail and Jack bid their farewells. 

'Real grateful for what you did for me and mine. You turned out to be one of the strongest amongst us,' John says, wearing an earnest grin. Sadie shakes John's hand, and he pulls her into an awkward hug, never mind that her cattleman dug slightly into his side or the feeling of a sturdy pair of hands ushering him to the side. 

Abigail takes his place, leaps into the woman's arms, nearly throwing her off balance. 'We're forever indebted to you, darlin'. Abigail plants a chaste kiss on Sadie's cheek. 'For everythin'. Your heart's always been in the right place.'

'It's nothin'. I know y'all would do the same for me. Now scoot 'fore I start spillin' things I don't wanna,' Sadie quips as Abigail releases her and pulls Tilly in for a hug. 

Tilly gives her a decent squeeze. 'Just hurry up and make an honest man outta John and don't make us wait too long for the betrothal.'

'Oh, sweetheart, if only if it were that easy.' Abigail giggles. 'He'll need to earn his way to my finger, one clean deed at a time. Take care of one another. Good things a dawnin' for all of us, you'll see.'

Sadie relishes in those words of encouragement until Jack pulls her aside and says something that contradicts his mother's positive outlook. 'Aunt Adler, I-I'm scared,' Jack mumbles quietly.

'You're goin' t' be alright, bud. Ms Tilly and I hope to see you again real soon, 'fore you end up bein' the one lookin' down on us, ya hear?' 

He leans in and cups her ear, whispering low, 'but I'm sc-scared for you. In my daydreams, I saw lotsa scary, dead things. Meltin' faces and-and rotten skins.' His bottom lip begins to tremble, a sight that troubles Sadie just as much as his chilling revelation.

'Come 'ere. It's just your wild imagination, bud.' Sadie tries to convince him or herself for that matter as he nuzzles into her shoulder. 'Now, I want ya to be strong for your momma and poppa, okay? Pinky swears on it.' He nods in silence while her idle finger hovers between them.

'O-only if you promise to be strong for yourself too because the monsters will try to eat you up,' Jack replies seriously.

Sadie swallows the lump in her throat. 'I promise a hundred times. If it makes you feel better, I'll kill the dead monsters a second time, once and for all.'

Jack nods with fervour and whispers, just enough for them to hear. 'Ahuh, you gots to make sure to kill 'em there. Or else,' he says, pressing his index finger gently against her forehead. Seemingly pleased with himself, he latches his tiny pinky around hers and gives one last cuddle before joining his parents.

Watching as they leave for new beginnings and a future unknown, Sadie keeps the boy's words to herself. At night, she waits for Tilly to fall asleep and broods by the fire with a cigarette in her mouth, thumbing the hammer of her revolver, just in case. 

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact:
> 
> ‘Sadie’ originates from the Hebrew language and translates to ‘princess’ or ‘lady-like’.
> 
> ‘Adler’ originates from the German language and translates to ‘eagle’.


End file.
